


Ain't Nothing But a Party

by stuckinabottle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Drug Use, Hand Jobs, M/M, harry's an idiot, horrible flirting, zarry - Freeform, zayn's a little hilarious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinabottle/pseuds/stuckinabottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's a loser who never grew out of his high school garage band and Zayn's an over tattooed pothead. They meet at a party.</p><p>or alternatively the one where Harry gets 'ahead' in life (but not really).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Nothing But a Party

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have nothing against the Sugar Hill Gang. I actually quite like them. The fic title is taken from this song: ["Ain't Nothing But a Party"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ6WFWZjIPc), but really has nothing to do with it too much.
> 
> Also this was possibly the funnest thing I've ever written. I super liked it. Hope ya do too.

 

...

The party was at a dilapidated sort of house. Well, it was actually in the backyard. In the old swimming pool, that had been drained and then converted into a skate park to be exact. The music was decidedly bad. Mostly because the theme was 80s hip hop, whatever that even meant. And if Harry heard another Sugar Hill Gang song he was going to lose it. Besides most people had come sans costume anyway. Scratch that no one had come in a costume as far as Harry could tell. He figured it was just the host’s excuse to play terrible music.

 

Harry currently sat atop a weather beaten, moth eaten, possibly moldy sofa; it was his throne. The crickets were already out, though it wasn't quite dark yet. The dusk clung around; the air thickened by the cloying smell of cheap marijuana and lingering nicotine, which clung like a lover to his skin and clothing. The sickly sweet smell of pabst blue ribbon permeated the air as well. It the smell of youth, Harry had determined this long ago, well not so long, back when breasts, singing pseudo-indie rock in a garage and PE class were what his little world revolved around.

 

The rest of Harry's band were somewhere goofing around, probably doing something that was equal parts dangerous and stupid. Mostly likely it involved matches, firecrackers and a deeply ingrained immaturity that they never managed to grow out of after high school. Six long years and the band was still together, much to everyone's surprise and Harry’s mom's displeasure.  But he, he wanted a quiet night, tonight. So when they got to the party, he grabbed a few beers and parked himself on the wilting sofa. His ridiculous band mates seemed to be doing just fine without him at the moment.

 

 A nameless blonde, Taylor, or was it Cara, Harry could never remember, perched on one of Harry's knees, her bony ass digging into the meat of his thigh. Every so often she would shift a bit, shimmying said ass closer and closer to Harry's groin. Her long piano fingers fiddled with the thread of his fraying and ripped one-size-too-small jeans.  Harry was too stoned and too drunk to care. He may have even hot-boxed his car by himself before he worked up the stuff to even come into the party.

 

"Harry," she whined, "let's go back over there, behind that tree."

 

“Hmm?” Harry asked coming out of his stupor.

 

Taylor/Cara, leaned over, crushing more of her self into Harry and whispered something that was supposed to be alluring and sexual in his ear. Harry wasn’t really listening.

 

"We can, if you like," he all but mumbled. She didn't seem to notice his indifference. Or that he hadn’t even heard her request, which was most likely sexual in nature. Harry just hoped it involved his dick in some sort of getting off scenario. She smiled, big and wide, her red lips pulling back to reveal her bright white teeth. She dislodged herself from his lap, taking care to press the minimal swell of her nonexistent ass into Harry's crotch.

 

"Help me up," Harry extended his gangly, sporadically tattooed arms towards her. She entwined their fingers and leaned her weight backwards. Harry shot to his feet with more exuberance than he had thought had and overshot, stumbled into a few people, cleared a whole table of a beer pong and finally knocked into a person who had been rolling a joint. Said person was not pleased.

 

"The fuck, man? You got a problem or something? That was some seriously expensive shit," the person yelled, veins popping out of his neck. Harry dragged his eyes up the expanse of the man's body.

 

He was hunched over slightly in an attempt to salvage the weed, so Harry couldn't quite make out his face. All Harry could see was that he wearing tight skinny jeans, and a nice leather jacket, and a pair of pretty scuffed up looking combat boots. Harry swallowed a gulp. He wasn't looking for any trouble tonight. He didn't possess the coordination nor the gusto to mess around with his band mates, let alone get into it with a rando at an increasingly lame party.

 

"Look, ah, I'm so sorry," Harry drawled, the words stuck to the roof of his mouth. They felt slow and heavy on his tongue.

 

"Whatever," the man grunted.

 

He abruptly stood up, and stuffed the weed he had managed to salvage into a small, clear baggie, shoving that into his jacket pocket. Harry struggled to keep his jaw from dropping when the man finally turned to face him.

 

He was perfect. Harry decided in that instant he had never seen anyone so beautiful and would probably never again. He had a sharp jawline, softened by some scruff and the beginnings of a beard. His eyes were a warm brown with glints of gold. His hair was done up in a quiff, or whatever that blasted hairstyle was, but on him it looked good. His eyelashes were obscenely long. Harry bit back the urge to reach out and stoke them, perhaps even steal one for safekeeping. God forbid, the man's shirt was just low cut enough for Harry to make out a glimpse at the top of few tattoos. 

 

"Is there something on my face, or something?" the other man asked slowly as if he was speaking to a child. Harry conveniently diverted all of his attention to the man’s lips, which were entrancingly soft looking, plump and pink. Despite being a little chapped, they were certainly much more inviting than Taylor/Cara's lips.

 

Then a hand waved cautiously in front of face causing Harry to finally resurface into the real world. The hand belonged to the man, which made sense because it was also beautiful and perfect. Long fingers that ended in pristine nail beds. Fingertips smudged slightly dark from rolling joints or maybe he was an artist. Harry reached his own hand out unsteadily, like a moth to the flame, and came to grasp the man's hand tightly in his. Harry forgot himself for a moment and gave said hand a quick squeeze, running his own fingers along the man’s. He let the tips of his fingers sit in the palm of the man’s hand, relishing how they sat so comfortably. Realizing what he was doing, Harry abruptly and unhappily dropping the hand in midstroke.

 

"Well, you're clearly not all together up here. So I won't have to kill you, I suppose," the man said, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. He looked pensive and a little bit confused.

 

"Harry!" Taylor/Cara whined, rather petulantly.

 

He heard her stamp her little heeled shoes against the cracked concrete. That couldn’t be good for them. Harry had nearly forgotten she was still latched to his side. She was rather tall and tree like if Harry really thought about it. She tended to blend in well with the scenery at outdoor parties. Harry effectively shooed her, halfheartedly waving a hand at her, then opted to completely ignore her in favor of ogling the man. She might have made a ‘hmph’ noise and then stormed off, probably still expecting Harry to follow, he didn’t.

 

"Right…so," Harry said slowly, nodding to convey his point, which didn’t really exist.

 

"Are you certain you're quite alright?" the man gave him a quizzical look. He seemed genuinely concerned, despite the fact that Harry had caused him to lose a few good ounces of his stash. Harry knew he would have been irrationally livid had that happened to him.

 

"No, no, I'm not alright. I'm Harry," he explained. He fiddled with the fraying edge of his shirt. He longed to wrap himself up in the man. Inhale his scent, write him a song about his exquisiteness, and bask in the glow of his delicate features, which were at the same time perplexingly rough.

 

"You don't look very hairy, to be honest."

 

"No, I meant my name is Harry."

 

"I got that. I was making a bad joke," the man extended his hand, "Zayn."

 

Harry stared at it for a beat and then grasped it enthusiastically in his own. Momentarily possessed, Harry pulled the man called Zayn close, flush against his chest. Zayn came easily, Harry was strong when he needed to be and Zayn had clearly not been expecting to be jerked forward. Zayn looked stunned but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Harry's lips descended upon them. Zayn's mouth was just as kissable as Harry had imagined. Though quite a bit firmer and less pliant than Harry would have originally thought. 

 

Suddenly, the lips against his were ripped away as a set of knuckles collided with the side of Harry's jaw, and even managed to knock off Harry's brown bandana. Harry immediately ran a hand over the tender spot. 

 

"The fuck, man?" Zayn spat out.

 

"Just because I didn’t say anything when you fondled my hand, doesn't mean that's a come on for all of that." Zayn looked troubled, or maybe that was just Harry's vision blurring. He heard the other man sigh, quite loudly. Harry blindly patted around on the ground searching for his treasured hair accessory. He squealed with joy when he found it, and hastily tied it back around his head.

 

"Hey, Harry, I'm sorry. I just, I’ve never been a fan of surprises. That looks like it's going to be swollen. Come, we can go grab some ice. Just promise, no unsolicited kissing this time." 

 

Harry nodded, and he felt one of Zayn's wiry arms wrap around his waist. He leaned into the touch. He was pleased with this sudden turn of events, but also slightly confused. He would follow Zayn anywhere though, he decided as he was dragged towards the house. It was nearly dark now. The last of the dusk's embers were snuffed out by the night's leery embrace. Harry half-walked, was half-dragged into the dilapidated looking house. 

 

"Are you a serial killer?" Harry asked in the most polite of voices. Zayn didn't answer, just sort of looked at Harry and shook his head.

 

"Must have hit you harder than I thought," Zayn muttered under his breath as they crossed the threshold of the house. 

 

Finally the pair walked into what was presumably the kitchen. It was hard to tell because half the house had been scorched by a house fire a few years previous. The health code should have had the house quarantined off, but in this town nothing ever happened on time. By some miracle, apparently the freezer was still in operation, or the ice machine, which made no sense to Harry so he just decided to ignore this incongruity. Zayn leaned Harry against a crusty, blackened looking counter top. Harry nearly toppled over before he could steady himself sans Zayn's support. 

 

What was wrong with him? He wasn't that drunk and he wasn't that high. He was just hungry. Which probably explained the majority of his unexplainable behavior. So he decided to start rifle through the kitchen cabinets in search of a snack to sate this sudden hunger. Alas no snacks were found. Only a few ant colonies and a surprised cockroach. 

 

"Are you hungry or something?" Zayn asked. He was massaging one of those reusable ice packs in his hands, getting it to run cold. He handed Harry the old looking ice pack. Harry took it from him, allowing his fingers to brush ever so slightly on Zayn's. He might have saw Zayn visibly shudder.

 

"Are you gay or something?" Harry blurted out. Zayn paled then blushed bright red. 

 

"Captain obvious here," Zayn deflected, refusing to meet Harry's gaze. Harry was both delighted and relieved. At first Harry had been very disappointed when Zayn struck him, he was afraid for a moment that Zayn was actually super straight. 

 

"Do you maybe wanna fuck?" Harry tried. He could tell he wouldn't get far with this if he was not frank. Zayn wrinkled his nose, looking Harry up and down. 

 

"In here?"

 

"No, maybe....Yes?" Harry must have sounded so desperate.

 

"Umm. I'm going to have to say no. It's pretty dank in here if you haven't had the opportunity to take a look around," Zayn snorted.

 

"We could go to my car?" Harry offered as his last resort. Zayn looked contemplative for a while. 

 

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" he shrugged. Harry brightened and unceremoniously dropped the ice pack into a puddle of curiously brown ooze that covered a portion of the ripped up linoleum floor. Zayn giggled. He actually giggled. And Harry thought he had never heard a sound so exquisite in his life. Just think he was about to make the beasts with two backs with Zayn. His heart might just burst.  

 

"I'm not actually fucking you, you know," Zayn explained as they crunched down the chopped up pavement gravel on the way to Harry’s car, "I'll suck you off or you can suck me off, but I don't want this on my conscience. You're proper loony right now. Feel like I'd be taking advantage."

 

Harry while crestfallen at first, just shrugged. He began to happily envision Zayn's pink lips, stretched out over his cock. He could deal with that. In fact he was more than alright with that.

 

"You would have a Range Rover," he might have heard Zayn say under his breath. Harry's car certainly did look out of place parked at this abandoned, run down cul-de-sac. The car had been a present when Harry had gotten into his top choice uni. Even when he dropped out to pursue music with his band, White Eskimo, he kept it. His dad wasn't around much to take it back, anyways.

 

"So, Harry, you going to unlock the car?" 

 

Harry nodded stupidly and did just that. It made a little beeping noise, to which Zayn scoffed lightly. He held the backseat door open for Zayn, "Your chariot awaits, milady."

 

Zayn shook his head but still climbed into the car to Harry's relief. Harry grinned, spinning his keys around his finger then proceeding to drop them on the pavement. He heard Zayn chuckle at that. After picking them up, he too climbed into the back seat, awkwardly crawling on all fours. He had to spin around, nearly twisting his back strangely in order to shut the door. Zayn shrugged his leather jacket off, packing it behind one of the backseat headrests.

 

"You're something else," Zayn said amused. He had what Harry interpreted as a come hither look in his eyes. Harry thither went, still on his hands and knees, an awkward shuffling of long limbs. Zayn widened his legs a little bit to accommodate for Harry in between them.

 

"Can I kiss you?" Harry asked, nearly batting his eyelashes at Zayn. Zayn rolled his eyes. Zayn just smiled which caused the skin around his eyes to make rather delightful crinkles.

 

"I thought we came into your car just to talk," he deadpanned. Zayn laughed, and then dragged Harry's face towards his. Harry placed a hand on each of Zayn's thighs, massaging them gently as their lips brushed. Harry almost swore there was a spark, but that might have been the cross fade or the slight twinge in his jaw from when Zayn punched him.

 

Zayn moaned, went all quiet, then gasped as Harry's tongue sought its way into his mouth. He felt Zayn smile into the kiss, and his hand moved to caress the edge of Harry's jaw. Zayn's light touch skated over Harry's jawline and eventually made its way into Harry's hair, tangling with his bandana. 

 

Then lips still attached, Zayn reached over to the hem of Harry's shirt, lifting it with one hand and feeling the taut abdomen with the other. Harry never grew out of his ticklish phase, because he began laughing as soon as Zayn's fingers skimmed over a particularly sensitive patch of skin between his hip bones. 

 

Zayn took the opportunity to break the kiss and tug Harry's shirt over his head, knocking the brown bandana from Harry's hair, and accidentally grazing his knuckles along the sore part of Harry's jaw. Harry yelped like a kicked puppy and Zayn mumbled an, "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry. Does it hurt badly?"

 

"No no. I just overreacted. Too much stimulation," Harry said. In an apology, Zayn pressed a gentle kiss or two to the place he had punched Harry. Harry enticed, thought it best to just begin divesting himself of his clothing. All of sudden, Zayn began laughing, rather raucously at that too.

 

"What is it? What's so hilarious?" asked Harry, Zayn was doubled over now hand on his stomach.

 

"You have a fucking butterfly on your stomach. It's kind of fifty shades of awful," Zayn managed between laughs. Harry looked down at his faithful butterfly. It looked sadly back at him. Now if he could just scrounge up the money to get it lasered off...

 

"You know, Harry," Zayn finally calmed down, "It's not that bad. Really." 

 

Harry was not convinced. He pouted. "I've been right nasty to you since we met, haven't I?" Zayn began, his voice dropped to a low rasp, "Just so you know, I happen to have a kink for horrible tattoos."

 

He lifted up his right forearm and pointed to a part of his sleeve. It read, "Chillin'" in god-awful bubble letters. There was even a palm tree next to the lettering. Harry may have suppressed a snigger at the sight of it. Next Zayn pointed at the strange skull that for some reason had a sling shot balanced on its head. Finally, Zayn pushed up the sleeve of his loose shirt a bit to expose a girl with a beanie and a peace sign on her crop top, frowning all the while.

 

"Enough show and tell," Zayn announced finally, "let me make it up to you. I promise you won’t regret it."

 

He shifted himself to kneeling and pushed Harry so that he was sitting, back up against the car door. He made quick work of Harry's belt, trousers and pants, which he pulled down around Harry's knees. Harry felt his cock stiffening at the sight of Zayn's intent perusal of his nether region. His hips lifted up slightly, seeking any contact. The tips of Zayn's fingers ghosted over the edges of Harry's hip bones. Harry may have whimpered in anticipation.

 

Finally Zayn had mercy and took Harry into his hand, stroking leisurely. Harry's hips bucked enthusiastically at the first touch. Zayn grinned and planted a dainty kiss on Harry's butterfly, trailing kisses south, while still maintaining his rhythmic movement with the hand on Harry's cock. He might have heard Zayn sigh when he nuzzled Harry’s cock, but Harry's senses went haywire once Zayn finally found it time to take Harry whole into his mouth.

 

"Oh," Harry gasped in slight surprise. And just as he had suspected Zayn was as good if not better than his fantasy. While simultaneously applying abundant suction, Zayn gently rubbed one hand on the uber sensitive area of skin near Harry's hipbone that caused Harry to shudder each time he passed it over. His other cradled Harry's balls, which Zayn expertly handled. And of course, Harry kept his eyes glued to the sight, struggling to keep them open. It was difficult. Zayn's pink lips stretched around, bobbing up and down the length of Harry’s dick. It made Harry want to just throw back his head and moan wantonly. He may have done that.

 

Harry's brain nearly short-circuited when abruptly Zayn stopped, Harry’s dick falling out of the other man's mouth with a pop. Zayn then looked Harry directly in the eye, no into his soul. Eyes locked, Zayn took Harry's cock back in hand and licked the entire length with the flat of his tongue, from root to tip. He would have come right there, embarrassingly all over Zayn's pretty face and beginnings of facial hair, if Zayn hadn't held his dick tight in his fist.

 

With a grin made of pure evil, Zayn stuck just the tip into his mouth, trailing his tongue around the head before dipping into the slit, his hand still closed firm around the base. Harry made a strange squealing noise and Zayn hummed in contentment, intensifying each and every sensation. After a few more halfhearted licks, Zayn finally got back down to business, and applied fairly vigorous suction. Harry stuck a hand in Zayn's quiff, accidentally mussing it up. He groaned obscenely loudly as Zayn's cheeks hollowed out. The windows on the car had completely fogged up.

 

Harry felt the heat of his orgasm starting to intensify in the pit of his stomach. Coiling and tight. "Zayn, I'm close," was all he could manage before his orgasm hit him like a freight train.

 

But Zayn didn't pull off, instead he continued his work, and even pressed a helping finger of two on Harry's perineum. Harry came with a choked shout, and Zayn took it all in with seemingly no trouble, he swallowed. 

 

Harry lay breathless for a moment. 

 

"Wow, that was--wow," stuttered Harry after a few seconds, "That was probably the best I've ever hand."

 

"So I've been told," Zayn smirked at him. He wiped the back of his hand over his reddened lips, before frowning slightly. Zayn looked pointedly at Harry and quirked a single flawless eyebrow.

 

"Oh, right, allow me, Zayn,” Harry forgot himself, and reached his hands towards the front of Zayn's now constricted looking pants, an obvious and uncomfortable looking bulge was visible. He quickly unbuttoned Zayn's jeans and removed Zayn's cock from its clothed prison. Harry shifted forward pressing Zayn to the left side of the backseat for better access. He positioned himself between Zayn's thighs with one of Zayn's legs resting by his side.

 

Harry spit in his right palm and took Zayn's length into it. Zayn murmured a thanks as Harry increased friction. Zayn leaned closer to Harry resting his forehead in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry decided he loved the feel of Zayn's hot exhales on his neck, the tiniest of whimpers from Zayn's throat, and the slight thrusts by Zayn's hips would make up into Harry when he flicked a thumb over slit on the tip of Zayn's penis.

 

Harry could get used to this. A light sheen of sweat shown on Zayn’s forehead, his lips worried by his teeth which pinned his lower lip into his mouth. Every so often, Harry’s hand must have done something amazing, as Zayn would let loose and forget his lip biting, and let out these amazing little mewls and groans. It was music to Harry’s ears.

 

Zayn emitted the most beautiful, keening moan when he finally spilled over Harry's hand. Harry continued to stroke him, as Zayn rode out his orgasm. Zayn pressed a kiss to the juncture of Harry's sweaty neck, then lightly bit down on the same place. Harry grinned against the top of Zayn's head, happy and sated. He leaned his weight into Zayn in the lazy heat of their shared post-orgasmic haze.

 

"Gerroffme," Harry heard Zayn muffled into the skin of Harry's neck. Harry complied, unhappily and leaned back against the car door, attempting to arrange his limbs in a comfortable way.

 

Zayn bent over, reaching for something on the floor of the car. "Just cleaning up before it gets gross," he said wiping Harry's bandana all over his lower stomach and cock. He offered the come sodden headscarf to Harry to clean his hands. 

 

"You're disgusting," Harry sighed, forlorn at the loss of one of his favorite head accessories. He was a little sad, but his post-orgasmic haze didn’t allow him be too upset. He was mostly sleepy. Harry didn't take the proffered scrap of fabric, so Zayn just shrugged and chucked it on the floor of the car.

 

"Vengeance is sweet. You ruined my weed, I ruined your headscarf. But hey, I think you got something better for your ‘head’ in exchange," Zayn laughed, rather cheekily at that. Harry frowned but Zayn went on his way, adjusting himself into his pants and buttoning his jeans closed. He planted a big kiss on Harry's lax lips slipping his hand against Harry's chest. He pulled away leaving Harry wanting and grabbed his leather jacket from behind the headrest.  

 

"See ya around, then, Harry." Zayn winked lasciviously, hopping out of Harry's car and walking back towards the house. 

 

Harry blinked stupidly and slowly. He was still sitting in the backseat of his car, pants and trousers down around his knees, cock out. He shook his head in disbelief. That's when he noticed a small scrap of paper in his lap. It had a phone number written in blue ink. Harry let himself smile and stupidly recalled he sitting nuddy pants in his car. Finally, gathering himself, he scrambled to pull his trousers back on, grinning the entire time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope the action wasn't too bad in this. I find it difficult to write le sex without it being awkward. Hehe. :)
> 
> Also a general question (not having to do with this fic), would you prefer slightly longer updates less often, or shorter updates more often?


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